


A Slight Miscalculation

by Faith Wood (faithwood)



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Humor, M/M, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-12
Updated: 2012-04-12
Packaged: 2017-11-03 13:04:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/381645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faithwood/pseuds/Faith%20Wood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur/Merlin, Merlin/a thing with tentacles. Arthur and Merlin track an evil, murderous creature back to its lair. Now if only Arthur would leave so Merlin can kill it.</p>
<p><b>Warning: </b>The tentacles thing isn't exactly consensual. So. But this is <s>crack</s> humor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Slight Miscalculation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [marguerite_26](https://archiveofourown.org/users/marguerite_26/gifts).



"It could be a bear," Merlin says, forgetting to whisper, because it's hard to concentrate on mundane things like keeping quiet when Arthur's fingers are wrapped around the hilt of his sword, fondling it in a way that makes Merlin want to scowl and ask if Arthur and his sword need a moment alone.

Arthur turns his head, very slowly, likely giving himself time to arrange his features into an appropriate mask of disbelief, reserved only for Merlin, which he undoubtedly practices in front of a mirror every day, because it's always so perfectly identical that Merlin fears that one day Arthur's face will just stay stuck like that. 

"A bear," Arthur repeats, as though Merlin has used a foreign word and he's testing its flavour on his tongue.

"Furry," Merlin helps out. He spreads his hands. "Big." Makes a grimace and scratches air with his fingers in imitation of a clawed attack. "Growly."

A muscle in Arthur's jaw twitches. Merlin can practically _feel_ Arthur's teeth clench, preventing laughter or yelling — it's hard to tell. "I know what a bear is, Merlin," Arthur grits out, then fondles his sword again, either thinking about stabbing bears, or hitting Merlin's head with the hilt. 

"It could be," Merlin insists. "It's a cave. They live in caves."

"It's not a bear."

"But what if it is? What if it's just an innocent bear, sleeping its winter sleep? You can't just kill it."

"An innocent bear," Arthur says, as though cursed to repeat Merlin's words. 

"Sleeping," Merlin confirms. "So it couldn't have been the thing devouring all the cattle."

Arthur opens his mouth, then closes his eyes, as though praying for patience. He shakes his head a little. "I'll risk it." He moves to turn the corner. 

Merlin grabs his arm. "It could be a dragon," he says, more urgently.

"All the more reason to kill it."

"You can't do it alone. We should get the others."

"Fine," Arthur says and Merlin grins, hopeful. Hope is murdered quickly. "Go get them, then," Arthur suggests.

"I can't." He really couldn't. Arthur's the one who should leave. So Merlin can kill whatever is lurking in the next passageway. "I'll get lost," he says. "It's a big cave. Very dark. You should go. I'll stay here and keep an eye on the bear."

Arthur's eyes narrow.

"Dragon," Merlin corrects himself.

Arthur's sigh sounds frustrated. His Adam's apple bobs; that's never a good sign. "Merlin," he says, "I realise you know nothing about tracking, so it has escaped your notice that we're in the right place. But we _are_. There's a creature in there, whose existence is putting the lives of my people in danger. It must be stopped. Now, you can stay here and hide, or you can come with me and..." Arthur frowns. "Oh, never mind. Just stay here and hide."

"But—" Merlin says, but it's too late. Arthur has spun around and charged. A deafening squeal pierces the air and the cave explodes with the sounds of battle.

Merlin pouts. "Fine," he tells the empty air. "I'll just knock you out with a rock, then."

He follows Arthur at a leisurely pace. And stops short. The creature is not what Merlin's expected. It's a _plant_. A giant green plant, sprouting from the cave's wall. Its many tentacle-like appendages swirl wildly around. Its body is thin, thicker at the bottom, pulsing like a heart ready to burst. Squeals come from the tip, which opens up like a slimy, rapidly blossoming flower and then closes with a squelching sound.

"Merlin!" Arthur shouts, evading the tentacles with skill, but not really doing anything constructive. "Distract it!" he says and a tentacle snaps forward to knock his sword to the ground. 

"Hey! Over here!" Merlin yells at the plant, but the tentacles wrap around Arthur's neck instead.

"You're. Not. Trying. Hard enough," Arthur grits out, choking. 

Merlin frowns and tries harder. He concentrates, flings his magic forward. It snatches Arthur from the plant's grip and slams him against the opposite wall. Arthur slips down to the ground, unconscious. A tentacle sneaks forward to poke him; it looks disappointed when Arthur doesn't move.

Merlin wastes no time. He reaches for his magic again and directs a powerful blast at the plant's body.

The sudden silence is a shock. The plant freezes, tentacles sway slowly in the air; the pulsing body contracts and shudders.

"Who's a good little potted plant?" Merlin coos, grinning.

The world spins. Merlin barely has time to gasp. Tentacles wrap around his wrists, his ankles, his neck and he's hauled forward, body whooshing through the air.

His back hit against something squishy and a squeal echoes in Merlin's ear. His arms and legs are spread, held tight and immobile. 

Merlin opens his mouth, tries to remember an appropriate word of magic. "Arthur!" he cries, or at least he tries to. He manages an _Ah!_ which turns to a _mmph!_ as a thick tentacle thrusts into his mouth. It tastes vaguely like spinach. Its surface is rough and Merlin's lips burn as the tentacle drags in and out of his mouth, as though _teasing_ , threatening to choke him but then pulling away.

Merlin bites down on it. _Hard_.

The result is instantaneous, though not one Merlin has hoped for. Another thick tentacle sways in front of his eyes; it parts down the middle and reveals rows upon rows of sharp thorns that snap against each other like teeth. It looks a bit like the tentacle is grinning.

"Sorry, sorry, so sorry," Merlin thinks and sucks on the tentacle in his mouth in apology. 

It doesn't help.

The thorny tentacle attacks, and Merlin screams pathetically around his mouthful. But the thorns don't slash his skin; they tear at his clothes. Which is a relief, but it also really _isn't_. Because Merlin sees pieces of fabric fly in every direction and feels colder and slimier by the second. The cool touch of tentacles against his bare skin makes him shudder in disgust. 

He will be devoured; he's sure of it. He hopes that Arthur won't be next.

He also hopes he's merely _imagining_ the slimy touch of a tentacle wrapping around his prick. It's simply too cruel for the plant to start nibbling _there_. 

The plant doesn't nibble, though. It _strokes_. It coils tightly around his prick and slides up and down. Another tentacle moves between his legs, strokes behind his balls. Another slides against the skin of his inner thighs, gentle like a lover. Another strokes from behind, down the crease of his arse. Another edges upward, wraps around his chest and squeezes.

The pleasure is too sudden, too unexpected for Merlin not to react. He feels himself growing hard, feels his limbs weaken and skin tingle. He moans and sticky-sweet flavour explodes in his mouth. The cave dances in front of his eyes, turns blurry, and Merlin sucks on the tentacle pulsing in his mouth and decides it's the best thing he's ever tasted.

Then another tentacle pushes more firmly between his arse cheeks, the tip pressing against his pucker, wriggling and twisting until it breaches and slips inside. Merlin shudders and the plant shudders with him; it squeals again in obvious delight. The tentacle thrusts up inside him, thick and slick, softening the burn with its cool surface. It's too long and too thick and will surely split him in half. But as far as dying goes, Merlin thinks, this isn't so bad. 

Although, perhaps it is. Perhaps it's the worst thing imaginable to open your eyes and see your king standing in front of you, eyes wide and sword in his hands, while you're being fucked silly by a plant.

"Mmph!" Merlin yells, though he meant to yell, "Arthur!" Because that _is_ Arthur standing before him, even Merlin's hazy mind can recognise him. Arthur, awake and upright, blinking at the sight before him in what must have been brain-freezing shock.

If Merlin could run, he would have. As it was, he could only close his eyes and pretend that if he can't see Arthur, Arthur can't see him. Although, he knows that Arthur can most certainly see him, _all_ of him. See Merlin spread before him, clothes torn, body exposed, mouth and arse opened and filled. And Merlin moaning and wriggling because he just _couldn't_ stop. 

Merlin would be embarrassed if he wasn't so aroused. 

Embarrassment wins nonetheless and Merlin's cheeks heat up when the tentacle pulls out of him and his legs are spread even wider, then pulled up and bent at the knees. He hovers on his back, legs raised and parted, arse exposed, throbbing, thrust forward like an offering for Arthur. The plant is, apparently, not above sharing.

Judging by the direction of Arthur's gaze, for a split-second, Merlin is sure Arthur will accept the offer. He's so sure of it, he's already moaning and rolling his hips as best as he can, trying to convey his approval.

They'll probably die, anyway; Arthur might as well fuck him before they do.

But Arthur's jaw tightens, gaze darkens, and he swings his sword to thrust it savagely below Merlin's body, straight into the plant's pulsing heart.

The plant squeals and shudders, its grip weakening, and Merlin is just a little bit sad, but he gets over it quickly when Arthur rushes forward to catch him before the dying plant drops Merlin to the ground.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Merlin's well-aware that the plant's sticky juice was some sort of aphrodisiac, and the arousal and dizziness he can't shake off are merely its result. But he doesn't really care, because Arthur smells so good and feels so solid and warm as he presses Merlin's back against the cave's wall. His hands are on Merlin's hips, body trapped between Merlin's clutching legs. Merlin rubs up against him and groans as though his mind is addled by pain and dizziness, and therefore he does not know what he's doing. 

"You all right?" Arthur asks, voice so low Merlin can barely hear him. He can see him clearly, though. Eyes concerned, expression tight, breathing heavy and warm against Merlin's face. 

"Sorry," Merlin says, because he's pretty sure that knocking out Arthur hadn't been such a good idea.

"For what?" Arthur looks confused and, more importantly, he looks like he might want to kiss Merlin, even though he's not the one who has consumed any aphrodisiacs. 

"Good point." Merlin nods. "You told me to distract it and I did."

Arthur laughs, though his hands clutch Merlin's hips even harder. Merlin's suddenly aware how hard he still is. And how naked he is. And how close to Arthur. And Arthur's pressing even closer, crushing Merlin against the wall.

"I told you we don't need anyone else," Arthur brags. His lips are full and curved into a smile and Merlin considers kissing them. Which would possibly be a little too bold, but he could always blame it on the aphrodisiac. 

Except that would sound like a lie. Merlin loses his courage quickly. 

"We should—" _Leave_ , he meant to say, but a dark shadow behind Arthur catches his eye and Merlin falls silent. He thinks that maybe he's hallucinating, but a blink or two later, he can still see it. A great, big furry animal, showing its blood-smeared teeth. It is, indeed, a bear, and it's certainly not sleeping. On the contrary, it's ready to attack.

"What?" Arthur frowns, gaze permanently stuck to Merlin's lips. 

Merlin sucks in a breath and kisses him. He kisses him with his eyes open, fixed on the bear. He summons his magic, lets it fly forward and crush the bear into dust. 

Which is kind of _loud_.

Arthur pulls back, panting, his eyes wide. He looks around. "What was that?"

"A bear," Merlin says, licking tingling lips. "I killed it with a glance."

Arthur looks back at him. "A bear?"

"A big one."

Arthur's thumb moves in slow circles on Merlin's hip. He adjusts his stance, leans closer, grabs Merlin's thigh. "What am I to do with you?"

Merlin grins. He has a few ideas.

**Author's Note:**

> Also posted [here](http://faithwood.livejournal.com/278780.html) @ my LJ.


End file.
